Memoirs of a Bitch by Francesca Petrizzo, Silvester Mazzarella Read Free Book Online Page A

this brutal reality.
    Leda put down the comb and tied up my hair with aribbon. Then she went away in silence. I went on looking at the bronze reflection in the mirror. Well combed hair and a white tunic. I didn’t want to weep, just to cry out, but there would have been no point. Tyndareus and Leda were leaving the next morning. Before it was too late and without looking, I pulled the absorbent bandage away from my thighs. An instant later Menelaus opened the door. A timid squeaking of hinges and silent steps on the floor. I blew out the lamp.
    There was a cruel light next morning; it violently forced open my eyes. Turning, I was relieved to find the bed empty. Menelaus had done his duty. When he reached out to take me in his arms I did not move. Not that I could have done anything to stop my blood flowing and giving me away. I’m made of stone. Yes, he pulled me to him and I didn’t react, but he must have sensed rejection in my tense muscles. I just didn’t want him. I might have been sorry about it. Kind but with silent hatred boiling in my veins. But I couldn’t pretend, not about something like that.
    With a sigh he had turned away to lie on his back. I pulled the sheet tightly around myself, wanting to weep. But I couldn’t, and that hurt me even more. The dry air stung my eyes. Menelaus was soon asleep and snoring, grunting through his short nose, arms invading my sideof the bed. Through the wall I could hear Clytemnestra moaning, like the bitch they claimed I was.
    Stiff with dried blood and sperm, the sheet scratched my skin. Disgusted, I went to wash myself. Soon a maid came to take the dirty sheet because Agamemnon wanted to inspect it. A couple of confident knocks on my door. I called out come in, combing my hair with furious wrenching strokes. It was Clytemnestra, no less. Already made up at that early hour, with precious stones in her flame-colored hair.
    â€œHad a good night?”
    She was smiling. I pursed my lips, forcing the comb painfully through my hair, and didn’t answer. She sat down on the edge of the bed, carefully balancing her big round belly and stroking it with insufferable smugness.
    â€œI’ll pretend I heard a yes.”
    I felt poisonous. “Suit yourself, sister.”
    She favored me with an easy, icy smile. “They’re leaving this morning, you know. You’ll have to come say goodbye.”
    Tyndareus and Leda. I dropped the comb and hesitated before putting on the pearl necklace, though I knew Menelaus would expect me to wear it. I stood up. Clytemnestra’s thin mouth twisted in a grimace of disgust. “You should look after yourself better.”
    â€œYou mean like you? I’m still more beautiful than you are, don’t forget.”
    She grabbed my wrist. Even with her swollen belly, she was stronger than I was.
    â€œBe very careful, Helen.”
    But I wasn’t a child, not any longer. Her hatred couldn’t reach me anymore. I smiled and shook her off. “
Little mums
first,” I said, ceremoniously ushering her to the door. She walked out with dignity, her eyes reduced to slits. I took a last look in the mirror. I did not know the woman I saw. That was what they had achieved. Two deep creases were appearing at the corners of my mouth.

12
    Carriages and horses. A king. Agamemnon standing before the main door with his arms crossed, a sumptuous cloak of Phoenician linen around his shoulders. Menelaus at his side with a white royal fillet around his head. Fillets: I remembered Diomedes in the sun in the middle of that courtyard, and now this tiny man. My husband gave me a timid smile, and I smiled back. He wasn’t to blame. So long as I could believe that, I could smile for him. Tyndareus was already waiting in a two-seater coach, with his driver holding the horses.
    What is the right way to take leave of your father? Should you run down the steps and hug him? Not us. Not me with Tyndareus. I looked down on his